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Take a look out the back window at your lovely garden. Smile at that small touch of nature that is early morning. Smell that "brisk" air as it wafts past. It masks the smell of the baby puke on the kitchen floor, the stuff your son promised to clean.

The aroma of dandelions hits you like an Eskimo kiss. You forget the bathroom smell that fills the house. It hasn't been the same since your husband got back on carbs.

The scent from the lilies are extra special this morning. Even cut grass makes you smile. Connecting with nature helps you wake up and turn off everything else around you. It helps you feel good. Helps you feel dreamy. You feel like a soft and silky woman. Huh? What? "Oh...yeah...that is really funny, oh yes, grabbing my breasts in front of the kids with a honk honk. No need for nature to make me feel like a woman when the man in the house pulls a honk honk on you.

Step 1: Morning smells

The glass burns your hand but you don't care because you are high and it looks so pretty.

Put the kettle on. No...wait. First wash the kettle. Hmm...it's so dirty it'll take five minutes to clean...at least. Use the portable water heater. Oh dear...it's covered with something your house has never seen...it's a sticky substance that burns on contact. Spend five minutes clean the kettle while you dream of a house less malignant than this one. Fill it to the top and put it on the...hmm...wait...the knobs are missing from the stove? That is a new all time morning low...so don't lose it...the morning has only begun. Order your husband to get the stove working. The water better be boiling by the time you return. He tries to pull a second "honk honk". Ignore it and cover your breasts with your morning gown. You are better than this. You are a gift to your family. You are amazing.

While your husband looks at the stove and slowly walks out of the room, go outside and smoke a clove cigarettes, the ones you hide in the bird feeder no bird ever eats from. Two squirrels live inside but they don't mess with your clove cigarettes...so the squirrels live. See that wasp flying over there. It moves slowly and makes a quiet sound. Its humming is relaxing. Lovely colours yellow and black. Walk by the fence. Drag your hand along the planks and feel the rhythm of finger nails on wood.

Cross to the plant bed and look down at the remaining herbs. Yes...naturally...the cat ate most of them and your husband's buddies pissed on the rest at last weekends BBQ. You can still smell it. You hate your husband's friends to such an extreme it takes great energy to fake them a smile. You are a good person and are never malicious. You are wonderful. Look, you found some clean herbs to pick for your morning happy drink.

Step 2: You are a strong amazing woman.

The clove cigarettes you know no one would steal even if they found them.

There's some untainted cardamon. Pick half a dozen seeds off the stalk. Finish your clove cigarette. Still stressed out? Smoke a real cigarette. A dirty tar filled stick you keep in the dog house...that dog house your husband was to take apart after the dog died...the dog that croaked two years ago. His old chain is still screwed to the ground. You miss the dog..you always hoped it would eat the cat. That dog was a secret blessing. He would stand close to you very quietly while you drank your morning dew. He was the only creature you could share your morning ritual left. He licked the remaining honey out of the cut. Remember to take apart the dog house later today.

Deep breaths. Smoke that stick down and start a second one. That should help with the stress. Not chilled out yet? Can you hear your three kids murdering each other? Has husband thrown his wet towel on the bedroom carpet yet? Could you imagine him having fixed stove...even if you were in heaven? Get that 8-ball you keep in your robe and smoke some of it.

Back in the kitchen you see a cold kettle on a broken stove top. Tell yourself its okay, you are chill. You are a spectacular house mom. Microwave a cup of water. Ask your oldest to get his brother out of bed before you lose all senses. Remind your husband that you took the kids to school for the last seventeen weeks. It is his turn and you will NOT drive them today. Mean while look out the window again. Isn't that nice. Nature. A breeze. Now stillness. Mmm.

Your older neighbour is cutting some roses for his wife. Try not to take it personally. They are better than your family, they care about one another, they think about each other, they are love. Remember, you are also love. You are enough love for your whole family. It is NOT your fault. Don't be angry. Smoke the rest of the 8-ball. The microwave beeping startles you. That's okay...the crack-cocaine has settled in nice and nothing else should bother you for the next ten minutes. Not even the cat who hasn't stopped meowing for the last half-hour.

Step 3: Steeping that heavenly steepness

The eight ball is both a stunning finale to a fun old table game and a quick morning stress reliever you keep in your pocket.

Take out the cup. Oh dear...your hand...hmm...it seems burnt...from the side of the microwaved mug...but you are so high you don't feel it. No worry...you will put some ointment on it once you come down...once you feel the burnt skin. The cardamon in your other hand...put it into the cup, get your cinnamon shaker...which...is empty. The cinnamon shaker is empty? Why on earth would an entire shaker be? Relax. Chill. You are better than this. Put in a bit of ginger instead. You are a centred and fabulous woman. Add two teaspoons of sugar. Add two more. The smell makes you feel lovely. Leave it to steep a while longer.

Find your husband a clean tie while he explains why he can't drive the kids to school. Resist the urge to push him down the stairs as you follow him to the front door. Hmm...no big deal...he forgot to give you a goodbye kiss. Feel the little breeze on your face as he slams the door behind him. Kitchen...your dew...check the mug. Smells really wonderful. Warm and steamy. Not yet ready. Cover it up again and wait. You almost have your lovely cup of morning bliss. You are worth it. Patience.

Step 4: That sweet morning feeling

You used to love washing your husbands sweaty gritty raunchy soccer shirts. Now...its just one more thing you have to do for your son...while he is playing x-box.

Take the kids lunch out of the fridge and put them into their Justin Bieber school bags. Trip over thirty different play station-nintento-sega-ipod-tablet-gadgets and break two of them. The kids were told to put them away five times last night. They will cry and demand new ones. You will not replace them. They will cry. You will buy them new ones. What's that? You can smell the infusion all the way from the kitchen. It is heavenly.

Go to the laundry room...look at that...the older boy's soccer uniform didn't make it to the dryer despite having asked him repeatedly to do it. Try not to blame yourself. You can't blame yourself. You are losing your ability to manage fifty things at once. But hey...you are a competent house wife. You need herbal tea. Control the growing rage. That anger creating a tennis ball sized lump in your brain. Herbs. Tea. Herbal tea.

Step 5: Teasing tantalising taste

That pillow case your mother-in-law gave you for Christmas, is the perfect burial shroud for a certain four legged thing.

You are ready for your morning brew. It has condensed on the saucer you left on top of the mug. Sip the dew. It is one amazing breakfast melody. It is divine. And you created it. Too hot though. Is the baby crying again? Yes. And the other two are hurting each other. Grab that cup of bliss. Go outside and stand by the pond for a moment. A special moment for a wonderful person. Drink half of your precious dew. Don't you feel more human now? Isn't life a little more worth it...when you are out in the garden...drinking a bit of paradise? You can feel the volatile scents creeping towards your nose. That...and the 8-ball you smoked. It's a beautiful morning. You feel wonderful. This morning will pass. You are super. You are exceptional. Morning dew.

Phone the schools and tell the secretaries...the catty secretaries...your kids are going to be late. They seem not amused. Remind yourself they are obese and have no family. One point for you. Check out your smoking body in the mirror...two points for you. You are one smoking hot house mom. Your kids friends call you a MILF. With your new energy, deal with crisis one. Then number two. Pull more magical tricks out of your pockets than humanly possible and wizz through crises three to twenty-two. The kids are off to school on their bikes. They are big boys and can get there on their own...or so you convince yourself. You doubt the wisdom of this while you put the baby to sleep...the screaming baby that needs a nap. Go check on the morning cup...that second half is waiting for you. The second half is like the other part of your soul. You cannot survive without it. Without that other part of your soul you are empty, haunting agony.

The cat which you barely tolerate is begging for some love. It scratches at the cupboard where you keep the expensive cat food. You can't bear the smell of fermented tuna. You want your sweet drink. The cat is scratching and scratching. You will have to polish the scratch marks...after you assassinate the cat. You stare at your cup. A tinted tawny colour. Slightly clear in the mug. You can't see the bottom of it. The cat is both meowing and scratching and staring at you in desperation. You look at the cat and guess how many bones it has in its neck. The cat is hysterical with wide eyes, scratching on the door as though it's twelve kittens are dying inside. Open the door, take out the can, open the can, cover your nose, put the putrid tuna into a dish...place the dish far from the kitchen. The cat sniffs at it. It doesn't touch it. It gives you the finger by putting up its nose and walks out of the kitchen with its tail in the air...flashing you its ass. Step back. You are not a murderer. You are kind and gentle. Go back to the cup.

Step 6: Why not a second cup?

Any of those pieces can be used to stab the next person that leaves their glass on the coffee table again.

Your special drink is now cold. It is really cold and it tastes bitter. Your burnt fingers are starting to hurt. Relax. You can't relax. You can't get the image out of your head...the image of the wet towel on the carpet. For the love of god who used that entire shaker of cinnamon? Reach into your robe...you need to smoke that ball...but you can't...you smoked the whole thing. Panic. Look out the window...see what a beautiful day it is. Remind yourself how beautiful it is. How beautiful you are. Make another cup of morning bliss.

The wasp is still around. Gaze at its loopy motion. Resist the urge to do what you said you'd never d...don't forget...you said to yourself only one 8-ball a month. It cannot come to this. Kitchen...your second cup of dew. The cat jumps up on the counter knocking expensive plates on your feet. They smash and bruise your feet...the bones in your feet. The whole thing has fired your raging nerves...you are at the edge of hysteria. The cat has to go...you can lose it today along with an old pillow case. Go back to the garden. No more cardamon left. That cat ate the rest. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. There is definitely an old pillow case you don't need any more. Go to the living room and take out that little black box. Open it and remove your emergency rock. You new morning Dew? No. Flush it down the toilet. Remember...you are phenomenal. With amazing will power. With a stunning head ache. Walk slowly to the kitchen. Crawl to the garden. Pick any herb, any spice, pick out weeds, some soil, all things natural. Put it into your mug. Gather some water from the pond. Stir it into a sludge. You are near death...without the morning concoction. Morning dew...in any form. All you need is morning...some dew...and you'll be fine.

Yes...yes you remarkable woman. You will be fine. You are wonderful...you are sensational. You will be fine. Morning. Fine. It's all okay. Dew.